After pocketing the Somber Ancient Dragon Smithing Stone, Gawain turned toward the opening in the mountainside. A rusted iron grate barred the entrance, sealing it tight. He had to admit, this gaol was hidden remarkably well; without Ansbach's directions, it would have been nearly impossible to find.
A biting chill emanated from the cave, making it feel less like a prison and more like a cellar meant for storing perishable goods.
He summoned a globule of Starlight, letting it hover above his head to illuminate the path. With a forceful Stormwall, he shattered the hardened iron gate and stepped inside with Melina.
The passage was narrow. Not long after entering, the color of the stone walls began to shift. He couldn't tell if it was an optical illusion or a result of the pale, ghostly torches flickering along the sides.
Frequent iron gates blocked the way, layering the only exit between the gaol and the outside world. Gawain had to destroy these metal barriers one by one to proceed.
The fact that these heavy gates were intact before his arrival suggested that even during the Crusade, Messmer's army had never discovered this place. The prisoners inside had neither been liberated nor found. He wondered why the Hornsent man had been willing to give up the location—was it truly because of Miquella?
As Gawain broke through the final gate, he entered the true interior of the gaol: a massive, hollowed-out cavern within the mountain.
He looked up to see the ceiling encrusted with frost, thick icicles hanging like jagged teeth. In this prison illuminated by Ghostflame torches, there wasn't even a hint of false warmth. The faint, echoing wails rising from the depths of the abyss only intensified the deathly silence.
Following the light of the torches downward, Gawain's eyes fell upon a series of massive jars suspended in the air by thick, heavy chains. He frowned. Why were they hanging? Was it merely for storage, or part of some elaborate ritual?
He couldn't fathom the Hornsent's logic, but these jars felt fundamentally different from the Warrior Jars of the Lands Between. The jars back home held the remains of honorable warriors; were these meant to hold the "sinners" Ansbach mentioned?
He turned his gaze to the path ahead. A crude, spiral road wound its way along the rock walls, bordering a bottomless precipice.
The bottom of the gaol was shrouded in an icy blue mist, obscuring the ground. Along the rock walls were rows of densely packed cells, each sealed behind iron bars. Metal cages, identical to the "birdcages" he had seen at the lake, hung from the ceiling. Many contained the desiccated corpses of Hornsent, their limbs dangling helplessly through the bars.
"One cage per person? Seems like a bit of a waste of space," Gawain thought. He was reminded of the cages for the Undead in the Undead Settlement—now that was efficient space management, if a bit hard on the residents.
Unlike those who had died in their cages, many of the cells along the cliffside were open. A significant number of Hornsent prisoners had escaped their cells.
What struck him as odd was that these Hornsent were also in a "shadow" state. There were no signs that the Crusade had reached this place, so why had these prisoners turned into shades?
He began to question the process of "becoming a shade." He could understand the Hornsent who were caught in the Crusade turning into shadows, but these prisoners likely didn't even know what was happening in the outside world.
Perhaps this form is a choice? Does it have something to do with the Scadutree's influence in the air? He had to admit, while he could sweep away these basic shadow-shades in droves, a single one was still stronger than an average civilian in the Lands Between.
Melina stared intently at the massive jars. She felt a sudden, inexplicable pang in her heart. The contents of those jars seemed to share a blood connection with her—a scent unique to the Numen.
Recalling her mother's identity, a dark suspicion took root in her mind, but she found herself unable to voice it.
Seeing nothing of note nearby, Gawain continued forward. The path soon crumbled away, the descending road vanishing into a wide platform below.
Standing at the edge, he looked down at the Hornsent below. Aside from the deepest, darkest corners, the situation below was clear. Many prisoners had escaped and were currently hunched over, digging through the frozen soil for something. They were shoving whatever they found into their mouths. Frost-covered wooden crates lay smashed and scattered across the platform, picked clean.
"Let's go down and see," Gawain said. With Melina on his back, he leapt down, landing softly near a Hornsent crouching on the ground.
The Hornsent possessed a sharp instinct for survival—or perhaps a prisoner's reflex. Upon seeing an outsider, it froze, then scrambled backward in terror and fled, leaving its "snack" behind in its haste.
Gawain didn't bother to give chase. He looked at what the shade had been digging up, and his lip curled.
Lying in the dirt were fat, bloated maggots, each as long as a finger. They were covered in frost, and clusters of them were frozen solid into the earth. Looking at the Hornsent scrounging for these grubs, Gawain felt that even the "Ashen One" aesthetic had its limits. If you throw snacks at them, do they just get more excited?
Shaking his head, Gawain walked toward the bridge connecting the platform to the next area. The path was narrow, a veritable tightrope that only allowed two people to pass side-by-side.
Several stronger-looking Hornsent stood up and lunged at the intruder. It was unclear if they were former guards or just aggressive inmates.
Gawain swung Euporia, executing a swift, spinning double slash. The blades flashed, and the Hornsent was instantly cleaved into three sections. The blood spraying from the corpse was immediately absorbed by the weapon.
The commotion drew the attention of more shadow-shades. Agitated by the scent of blood, they swarmed him in droves.
The previously dull blades of Euporia began to glow with a golden light. The twinblade blurred into a storm of steel, shredding the blocking Hornsent into pieces. The radiance on Euporia grew blindingly bright.
Sated by blood and empowered by life force, the twinblade acted like a withered tree coming back to life, regaining its former glory.
Sensing it was fully charged, Gawain held the rapidly spinning Euporia before him. As magic flooded the weapon, the rotation formed a golden vortex. Then, a dazzling beam of golden light erupted forward, forming a torrent. Everything in its path was ground into nothingness; nothing could withstand it.
"Whoa... is this the Holy version of Comet Azur?"
Gawain was genuinely excited by the power. The discharge carried the sacred aura of the Primordial Erdtree. While it required charging, the benefit was that the FP cost was practically zero compared to a spell like Comet Azur. Once charged, he could unleash a devastating torrent.
Sacrificing the blood of enemies to make the blade regrow and shine golden... The sense of déjà vu was strong. As expected, "Yellow" and "Chaos" really weren't that far apart.
As the Euporia vortex faded, the blade returned to its quiet, withered state. That torrent wasn't even Euporia's limit; once he reinforced it with smithing stones and fed it more life force, the attack would be even more potent.
He wondered why the weapon had ended up in such a state. If it were watered with the Abundance of Miquella's Haligtree, would it stay in its peak form forever?
Stowing Euporia, the two continued their exploration. For a long stretch, they found no useful information, merely treading over maggots while fending off occasional Hornsent ambushes.
Finally, in a small room deep within the gaol, they found a Hornsent spirit. The ghost was kneeling, hands clasped in a plea. It repeated the same words over and over:
"...No, please... not the jar. Anything but the jar. I won't do it again, I swear. I'll be good, I'll be a good person... Please, have mercy..."
The spirit trembled violently, the terror it felt in life so profound that even death brought no release.
Gawain found the spirit's mumbling strange. The jars? Is there something inside them he's afraid of? What lies down the other path?
As he stepped out of the room, his eyes widened at the sight. Countless great jars were suspended by chains, clustered so densely they formed a literal staircase leading downward.
Everywhere he looked, there were sealed jars. Some were so old they had cracked open, exposing the flesh within. The tissue had congealed into a dark, reddish-brown mass in the cold air, radiating a visceral wrongness.
Gawain went down alone to scout. He reached a wooden platform at the bottom. Just as he was about to see how many jars were piled there, an upturned jar suddenly stood up and lunged at him.
Even though he was on guard, he hadn't expected the jars themselves to be "alive." He dodged the clumsy tackle, and the jar shattered against the floor, revealing a lump of flesh.
The creature had a bloated, misshapen torso and spindly, thin limbs. Atop the hideous body was a face that didn't match at all—pale skin and white hair. What is this thing?
As he hesitated, the flesh-monster sprouted a whip-like appendage of thorns and muscle from its body, lashing out at his head.
Gawain quickly spun Euporia, the resulting vortex shredding the incoming flesh. The blood-sated blade began to glow. Just as he was about to deliver the finishing blow, he heard Melina cry out from behind him.
"Wait! Don't hurt her!"
Gawain stopped mid-motion. He performed a sweeping kick that knocked the off-balance flesh-monster to the ground, then pinned it down using gravitational force.
The suppressed monster let out a desperate, agonizing wail. After a moment of struggling, it seemed to lose its strength, curling into a ball and trembling.
"What is this thing? You recognize it?"
Melina jumped down cautiously. She nodded and slowly approached the curled-up mass of flesh, her face heavy with sorrow as she confirmed the truth.
"She was once a Shaman. She came from the same village as my mother, Marika. Or, to use the name more commonly known in the Lands Between... they are Numen."
"Numen!?" Gawain stared at the twisted, profane form. He couldn't reconcile this with the noble race of Numen. But as he looked closer, the features matched perfectly.
However, unlike a normal Numen, this creature's flesh was alien. It was a massive ball of meat. He couldn't imagine what kind of torture would cause such growths to sprout; the spindly legs could barely support the weight.
A tattered strip of cloth was tied tightly over her eyes. Over the long years of suffering, the fabric had fused with the rotting flesh. Chains and iron shackles were still attached to her legs and arms, merged into the skin. On her head was a deep, seared brand—a mark of her slave status.
Gawain looked at the horrific creature, and the fragments of information he had gathered began to piece together in his mind.
"These are your mother's kin? Why would they be turned into... this?"
Melina's lips parted, but she couldn't bring herself to say the cruel truth. She reached out to gently comfort the trembling form. Though it was too late, she wanted to give her even a moment of peace.
"Look closer. I think the truth is already evident."
Gawain examined the shifting flesh of the Shaman. She had come out of a jar. The abnormal mass of meat on her body was the result of unimaginable torment—was it the result of wounds and flesh constantly regenerating and overgrowing?
No, that wasn't right. Recalling the attack from earlier, it wasn't just thorns—those were bones protruding haphazardly. This was the flesh of other creatures, fused to the Shaman's body through some horrific process.
Recalling what the Hornsent spirit had said, Gawain whispered in disbelief:
"Is this the Hornsent ritual for 'transforming' sinners? They cut up the prisoners into these lumps of meat, throw them into jars, and force them to fuse with the Shamans?"
"The Hornsent believe that by doing this... they can make the sinners into 'good people'?"
As Melina gave a slow, somber nod of confirmation, Gawain felt his skin crawl. He looked up at the jars hanging from the ceiling and the countless jars abandoned by the road. Is there a Shaman inside every single one of them?
In that moment of distraction, the gravity suppressing the Shaman faded. The blind Shaman let out a shriek and scrambled to her feet, lunging at Gawain again.
Over the long years, her mind had been tortured to the brink of collapse. She had closed off her heart, just as her eyes were shrouded; it was the only way she could continue to exist in this world. Consequently, any external stimulus triggered her broken psyche, sending her into a state of mindless frenzy.
Pulling Melina behind him, Gawain dodged the weak attack. He began to think of a way to calm her without causing harm. A moment later, his eyes lit up, and he ignited a flame in his left hand.
"Right, I have this."
He glanced at Melina. Usually, for the sake of his image, he didn't use these "strange" abilities in front of her, but this was an emergency.
As the flame ignited, a soft, pinkish light illuminated the dark underground space. Every living thing touched by the light was affected.
The frenzied Shaman froze instantly, as if soothed by an invisible hand. Her agitated spirit settled. She leaned toward Gawain, then collapsed into a sitting position as if all her strength had left her. It was as if she had finally found salvation; a low, muffled sob escaped her throat—a sound of unbearable grievance and relief.
Gawain looked at the flesh that rippled with every sob. This level of cruelty was on par with the worst experiments of the Dark Souls world. The Shaman's limbs shook as she covered her face with her hands, as if she were in constant pain.
He placed a hand on her head. In this frozen underground gaol, she was naked, and her skin was icy to the touch. He silently conjured a Warmth spell nearby. While it was a drop in the ocean for her condition, it provided a long-lost sense of security.
Once the Shaman was completely quiet, Gawain finally relaxed. He turned back to look at Melina, only to find her expression very strange. Her pupils were shimmering with the same pink light, focused into the shape of a heart.
Oops. When I cast the Charm, I forgot it was an area-of-effect ability.
Support me here: https://[email protected]/AuAuMon
Elden Ring: In the Name of Ash (339 chapter - Ongoing)
Join the journey and become part of the story!